


one day i'll get to say 'I told you so'

by petrichor_bubble



Series: Blood magic and other Shenanigans [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Circle of Magi, Gen, Half-Elves, Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Mages (Dragon Age), Not Beta Read, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins, Relationship(s), Templars (Dragon Age), ambrose and cullen have... a relationship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28852842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichor_bubble/pseuds/petrichor_bubble
Summary: “While you are here, Ambrose, I would like to introduce you to the newest addition to our templars, Ser Cullen Rutherford.”Cullen straightened his back and folded his hands behind his back, standing at attention.“Cullen,” the Knight-Commander began. “This is Ambrose Surana, one of the apprentices and one of your charges. He has been in the tower for a long time, so don’t believe him when he tries to act like he doesn’t know the rules.”It felt like there was a story behind it, especially with how the corners of Ambrose’s lips twitched upwards for a moment.Two small companion one shots for my fic 'Are you Satisfied?' set before Origins, which might explain a bit about the interactions between Ambrose Surana and Cullen Rutherford in the first few chapters.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford & Male Warden, Cullen Rutherford & Surana, Mage(s) & Templar(s) (Dragon Age)
Series: Blood magic and other Shenanigans [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115738





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written from Cullen's POV so this might look accordingly...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Cullen Rutherford met Ambrose Surana, was not remarkable at all.

It was Cullen’s first day in the circle tower of Kinloch Hold. The first day of his official templar duties. His new Knight Commander introduced him to the First Enchanter, a polite formality as he had been told when a knock on the door disrupted their conversation.

But the person on the other side of the door didn’t wait to be asked inside. Instead, just as the knock ended, the door opened, and the bored-looking face of a young man appeared.

“Irving. I have the books you wanted,” he said, his gaze wandering over the gathered people for a moment. He seemed rather disinterested in all of them before he fixed on the First Enchanter. Next to him, Cullen could hear the Knight-Commander sigh in a way that reminded him of his sister when their younger siblings had caused trouble again.

But Irving smiled benignly.

“Ah, Ambrose. Very good, thank you. Would you be so kind as to put them on my desk?” he asked. The man, Ambrose, nodded and fully entered the room, a stack of books in his arms.

“Surana, you know that you are to call him by his title,” Greagoir chided, and for a moment, Cullen could have sworn he saw him roll his eyes as he walked past them.

“But of course, Ser Greagoir,” he muttered and made to unload the books on the First Enchanter’s desk. Cullen watched him for a moment. The mage, an apprentice considering his robes, was maybe around his age, maybe a year or two older. Short black hair revealing slightly pointed ears. Not long enough to be an elf, not rounded enough to be human.

A half-elf.

Cullen had never seen one before. There had been none back home in Honnleath nor during his training.

Suddenly the mage, Ambrose, turned to look in his direction, and Cullen could feel his cheeks burn from the embarrassment of being caught staring. A somewhat displeased huff was all the reaction he showed.

As soon as Ambrose finished his task, he made his way towards the door only to be stopped by the First Enchanter.

“While you are here, Ambrose, I would like to introduce you to the newest addition to our templars, Ser Cullen Rutherford,” the older man explained. His hand came to a rest on top of Ambrose’s shoulder in a fatherly, almost protective gesture. Ambrose pulled his shoulders, taking the smallest step to the side in an attempt to escape the contact.

Cullen straightened his back and folded his hands behind his back, standing at attention.

“Cullen,” the Knight-Commander began. “This is Ambrose Surana, one of the apprentices and one of your charges. He has been in the tower for a long time, so don’t believe him when he tries to act like he doesn’t know the rules.”

It felt like there was a story behind it, especially with how the corners of Ambrose’s lips twitched upwards for a moment.

Then the mage looks at him, their eyes meeting for a long, short moment, and for a moment, Cullen is taken aback. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but certainly not this.

Dark violet eyes examining him. For a moment, Cullen thought that this must be how the dogs must have felt when his father checked which ones to sell and which ones to keep. Like this man was trying to determine his worth by simply looking at him.

He swallowed thickly but didn’t break the eye contact.

He had heard of something like this. Of young mages coming into their magic not with fire and ice, not with explosions or small tricks, but rather quietly. A change in hair or eye color. Sometimes for only a moment, other times permanently.

Ambrose must be part of the latter category.

It was an almost unnerving sight to see proof of his magic so clearly in his face, unable to hide.

Finally, it seemed like Ambrose had come to a silent decision on Cullen. His eyes moved away from him, looking somewhere to the side before he offered him a polite nod.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ser,” he said it with the same disinterest he had offered to the Knight-Commander. Like reading a passage of a book, he had read a hundred times already.

“The pleasure is mine, Ambrose,” Cullen replied, offering a deep nod in return. Another quick glance from those violet eyes before Ambrose looked towards Irving.

“May I leave now, or do you have another errand for me? I need to study,” he asked. Irving sighed, soft enough that Cullen thought he imagined it for a moment.

“Of course, go ahead, child,” the First Enchanter said, and Ambrose walked towards the door without another word.

“You are too lenient with him, Irving,” Ser Greagoir said. “You only encourage him to cause more trouble than he already has if you keep this up.”

“We all caused our fair share of trouble when we were children, Greagoir. Or do you mean to tell me you have never broken any rules in your youth?”

The Commander grit his teeth.

“Not to this scale,” he growled.

“And he sat through his punishment,” Irving argued quietly.

Cullen quietly stood beside his commander, looking between the two men until the quiet click of the door drew his attention.

He caught a hint of apprentice robes before the door finally closed.


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen learned quickly during the first few months of his service that templars liked to gossip almost as much as recruits did. Not that there was a wide array of topics to gossip about, so most of it ended up being about the mages they watched over.

Some of the older templars talked about them like prisoners, like things they could break without consequences. Sometimes they spoke of the punishments one or another of them had received, wondering about other methods they could have used. Should have used. Would have used. And for the most part, Cullen simply stood there and listened quietly.

He didn’t have their experience. He didn’t know which punishments would be just, which he would have issued, if at all. A part of him hoped he would never have to find out.

And then they talked about Ambrose Surana. Not in great detail, but there were mentions of escape attempts, both of his own and of another apprentice.

“The one down in solitary?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“The very,” the older templar said before she lowered her voice. “His last escape attempt wasn’t his first by far, though that’s probably the harshest he’s been punished yet. Ser Greagoir was furious.”

“His punishment is almost over, though,” the other templar explained with a bored tone. “I still think we should just make him tranquil and be over with it. I doubt he’d care much for running if he’d be able to clear that stuffed head of his.”

Then the first templar explained: “The Surana boy helped him with his first escape attempt. Managed to give old Fredric a nasty scar with all the spells he was letting loose.”

“We got him good too, though,” the other laughed, tapping his finger against the side of his nose. “Still would’ve punished him harder. Sometimes I think Greagoir is too soft on the young ones. The sooner they learn, the fewer problems they cause later on.”

Cullen had seen Ser Fredric. He was certainly one of the older templars here, a little confused at times but strict with his charges. And, of course, he had seen the scarring on his face and neck. Thin twisting lines stretching from a clear impact point. They had left the right side of his face a mess of raised scars, his ear damaged, and the right side of his head unable to regrow hair and beard. It was like he had been struck by lightning, the heat burning up his skin.

To think that a mere apprentice had done this. It was proof of the dangers of magic and those that could wield it. Proof that Ambrose was dangerous, and yet... he wondered about the punishment he received in return.

He shouldn’t care about it.

Yet...

“What was his punishment?”

**//////////**

Cullen found Ambrose in the library during one of his rare free afternoons. It wasn’t often that they had free spots in their rotations. He should probably enjoy this opportunity instead of looking for an apprentice he had talked only a few times to, yet here he was.

No armor, no helmet, no shield. He had never walked around like this in the tower, only in the templar barracks and the outside perimeter. It wasn’t strictly forbidden, but not exactly encouraged either.

But he did have his sword at his hip, a requirement of his position—a safety measure.

“Surana,” he said. The half-elf turned around in the middle of placing a book back on one of the tall shelves. He frowned as he looked Cullen up and down.

“Did someone steal your armor, Rutherford?” he asked and returned to his task.

“No, I’m off duty,” he explained, feeling suddenly somewhat self-conscious in his simple linen tunic. Ambrose glanced in his direction again, raising his eyebrows.

“And you’re not in the tavern on the other side of the shore?”

“Should I be?” Cullen wondered with a frown.

“That’s where most of you end up during your free time. Maker, that’s where most of _us_ would end up if we could leave this place for an hour or two,” Ambrose muttered, shaking his head and placing another book back on the shelf. He continued walking, looking at the next book in his hand, searching the shelves for the right spot. Cullen followed him, ignoring the quick sneaking glances of the mages.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Ambrose stopped in his tracks and fully turned to Cullen, confusion, and suspicion written all over his face.

“About the tavern?” he asked.

Cullen’s eyes wandered to Ambrose’s nose, to the pale scar on the bridge of it. Well healed but uneven. Like the skin had been torn by a gauntlet.

Cullen’s jaw tensed.

“About your escape attempts,” he said. The shift in the mage’s expression was immediate. His lips thinned, his brows drawing closer. He quietly scoffed and turned around, walking a little faster now.

“I am afraid I don’t know what you talk about, Ser. I haven’t made any attempts at anything but my studies.” He shoved another book into the shelf, using far more force than necessary. Cullen followed, keeping pace with the shorter man.

“You should find better friends then,” he pointed out. Ambrose stopped once more, turning to glare at him once more.

“Excuse me?” he hissed.

“I-“ Cullen began, but Ambrose straightened his back, somehow managing to seem that much taller, even though he was almost half a head shorter than Cullen.

“ _You_ don’t get to decide who I talk or don’t talk to,” he hissed and slapped the book in his hand against Cullen’s shoulder. “How am I even supposed to avoid anyone in this damn tower, huh? I can’t even get rid of templars when they’re _off_ duty!” Ambrose looked at him with this part annoyed, part bored expression. The one that made Cullen feel like Ambrose thought he was an idiot.

He likely did.

Cullen rubbed his shoulder. It didn’t hurt too much; he had gotten worse hits during training, but still.

“That was unnecessary,” he muttered with a frown. Ambrose mirrored his expression with a tilt of his head.

“You are a strange templar,” Ambrose finally said, shaking his head.

“What? Why?”

Ambrose waved the book he had just weaponized in his hand.

“I just raised my hand against you, and you didn’t even flinch, let alone move your hand towards your sword.” He nodded towards the still sheathed weapon. Cullen followed the motion; his hand carefully came to rest on the hilt of his sword.

“You didn’t use magic,” Cullen tried to defend himself. “A book is hardly a deadly weapon.”

Ambrose’s head tilted to the other side, and then he snorted. An amused smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head.

“Maker’s balls, Rutherford. If you keep this up, you won’t survive here long.”

“You sound like you would try to kill me if you had the chance.” Cullen lowered his voice, looking about to make sure no one heard them. This was a dangerous topic, especially for Ambrose. But the man regarded him with a sharp smirk.

“Of course. And I know about a hundred and fifty other mages would do much the same. With or without magic,” he answered in a low voice. “Just like you and your templars would do.”

He frowned at Ambrose, straightened his posture, and answered: “I won’t deny that some of the others have... expressed such sentiments, but I wouldn’t. Maybe I _am_ naive as you seem to think, but I don’t intend to hurt someone if it can be avoided.”

They watched one another. It was difficult to guess what was going on in the mage’s head, but all mirth and teasing had left his features. No smirk, no teasing gaze.

“One day, you will. You haven’t been here for long, Rutherford, but one day you will want to hurt someone innocent simply because you can. Because you have to power to do so without facing repercussions. Might be because someone else hurt you first, might be for no reason at all, but the day _will_ come.” His voice was low, almost soft as he talked, his gaze never straying from Cullen’s face. “If I’m lucky, I’ll be there in that moment to tell you ‘I told you so.’

“So, a piece of advice until that day comes? Keep your armor and helmet on when you’re running around the tower and your hand on your sword. It’s less inviting.”

With those words Ambrose patted Cullen’s shoulder, turned on his heels, and began to walk away.

He watched him leave, his hand tightened on his sword, turning his knuckles white.

“You should be careful,” Cullen called after him, though he wasn’t sure what he was warning him about. “Solitary can’t be worth it.”

And once again. Ambrose stopped, but he didn’t turn around yet. He could see his shoulders tensing for a moment, and then he turned around with a smile Cullen couldn’t quite place. It lacked his usual sharpness, yet he was unable to say what else was lingering there. A hint of anger? Sadness? Maybe it was pity for something Cullen couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ambrose said almost softly. “I found it to be rather... eye-opening.”

Now the smile lost whatever had softened it, instead twisting into something dangerous that made his hand clench a little tighter around the hilt of his sword once more.

Maybe it was this smile or maybe the violet of his eyes, but something in Cullen twisted with discomfort. _Dangerous,_ something whispered in the back of his head. _Demon._

This time he didn’t stop Ambrose from leaving.


End file.
